Solitary days and humble nights

Whisper a tale

Can you hear what they whisper.
The weeping willow's song.
The wisps of old are singing tonight.
The old moon is gone.

A single tear holds the key.
To hear their tale.
Perhaps even set them free.
Listen can you not hear them wail.

It's so loud yet very still.
They scream and cry the songs of old.
The whispers of the willows hill.
The glitter of the forgotten hold.

I can't stand the wisps cries.
The willow is fading and old.
This is when it dies.
Tonight is too still and the moon isn't bold.

The birth through death.
Their is no greater tale.
Than the moons and the willows.
Sung in the whispering wisps forgotten wail.